


What a Difference a Day Makes

by magnessina



Series: Breathless [8]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnessina/pseuds/magnessina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Gold doesn't call, and Belle knows she's ruined everything. She tries to apologise and only makes things worse, so baking him an apple pie is the only logical thing left to do, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Difference a Day Makes

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hi, hello, this is me.  
> I gained my degree, and now hold a BA in English Studies, so thank you for having been so incredibly patient and supportive. I appreciate it so much, and I bring some Breathless fluff with me. This is silly and probably not that exciting, but I sure hope some of you will find it interesting.
> 
> This one's based on some of Laikin394's prompts. Thank you for that! 
> 
> Anyway, do enjoy and... see you again, some time.

The next day comes, and Mr Gold doesn’t call Belle, despite their deal.

And he has never broken a deal in his life before.

She was drunk, he reasons with himself. It would be wrong - not that it’s ever mattered. But this is Belle. She didn’t mean that. True, they’ve gone out a few times, but it was too early to make another move. Besides, for heaven’s sake, what was he supposed to do, really? Call her and say, “Hey, you’ve promised me a kiss whilst inebriated, and there may or may not have also been that bit about me being your first lover? Yeah, let’s do that.”

He thinks not.  

So, Gold simply doesn’t call her because this is the easier thing to do. Instead, he spends his Saturday morning trying to busy himself with something. Anything.

It’s almost one in the afternoon and he’s about to close the shop and go sulk a little in the silence of his pink house. He’s going to pour himself some scotch and stop obsessing over Belle French. Or, at least, attempt to do the latter.

Then the front door swings open.

And Belle French, he sees.

“Mr Gold!” she gasps, as if the courage suddenly left her. “I mean… Hello, Aidan.”

“Belle,” he nods. This is so uncomfortable, for some reason. Last night they kept so close – they walked around town, their arms entwined, then almost kissed in front of Belle’s block of flats, and today they can barely exchange pleasantries. Ridiculous.

“You haven’t called and I…” Belle starts, nervously playing with the hem of her short skirt.

Gold struggles to maintain eye contact; the atmosphere awkward or not, this is still _her_. He desperately wants to feast his eyes on her insane body.

But, _again_ , this is Belle.

He respects her too much to just _ogle_ her. Nonetheless, it’s hard.

“I haven’t indeed. I just–”

“Aidan, wait,” she interrupts him. “I actually came here to apologise for last night.”

“Apologise?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know it changes nothing, but I just wanted you to know how sorry I am. I swear to all that is holy, I’m not this obnoxious on daily basis. Or this brazen, for that matter. It’s just… We, Ruby and I, hadn’t had time to talk lately, and yesterday was a perfect opportunity to catch up, but then alcohol happened, and… Well, you saw it.”

“I did, but–”

“I know, I was being absolutely pathetic,” she moans.

It’s most distracting of her.

“The things I said to you, Jesus. Aidan, I’m so sorry. Truly, I am. I tried so hard for you to like me, and when you apparently… _do_ , I fuck it up. I should’ve never let Ruby leave us alone. You wouldn’t have seen me like that, and I wouldn’t have scared you off.”

This wrong, this is _all_ so wrong, but every time Mr Gold wants to tell her so, she keeps interrupting him. She hasn’t scared him off, as she put it, he just didn’t want to take advantage of the things she told him when she wasn’t quite herself. It seemed like an honourable thing to do. She just completely misinterpreted it.

“Belle,” he starts, _again,_ “if you would just be so kind as to actually let me finish my–”

“No, I can’t let you do that. I don’t wanna hear you tell me to leave,” she says, coming to stand in front of him. Unfortunately, in her despair, Belle seems not to be able to control her body movements all that well, because as she puts her hands on top of the counter separating them, she knocks down a very expensive looking vase.

Gold doesn’t even blink, not truly giving a damn about anything else but about the woman he has come to know and care about so dearly, who is currently looking as if she has just murdered somebody.

“I am so sorry,” Belle cries out, absolutely horrified. She’s gone pale and Gold can see tears shimmering in her eyes, and he’s desperate to assure her it is fine, that he doesn’t mind, that things like that _happen_. However, because Belle seems to be dead-set on not allowing him to utter a word at all today, she mutters, “I’m absolutely hopeless, I’m so sorry Aidan. I’ll pay for everything.”

And then she turns on her feet and leaves.

The day just couldn’t get any fucking worse.

* * *

Well, that wasn’t true.

Life has decided to prove Mr Gold wrong, and it turned out that this day could, indeed, get even worse.

So distraught was he on his way home, that he didn’t notice a loose kerb stone and he stepped on it with his bad leg. Next thing he knew was an excruciating pain shooting up from his ankle towards his knee.

It’s a miracle he managed to get home.

It does serve him well, though, he thinks to himself some time later. It’s already dark outside, so it must’ve been hours. If he had called Belle like she had asked him to, none of this would have happened. They’d schedule a date, they’d go out, and he’d kiss the daylight out of her. Instead, he’s lying on the sofa, all alone, the pain making his brain foggy, with no Belle to hold his hand or stroke his hair.

Not that he’s a ninny. But he does find himself striving for basic human contact more and more often now.

No one has made a fuss over him in a very long time. It would be nice, probably, especially with Belle doing the fussing.

When the doorbell rings, he wants to die. And he definitely doesn’t plan to actually stand up.

It keeps ringing, though, and it’s driving him _mad_ , so with great difficulty he gets up and goes see who it is.

When he opens the front door, Gold forgets all about the pain for a little moment. Not a very big surprise, too, seeing as it is Belle standing on his porch, holding something that smells rather delicious in her hands and looking at him sheepishly.

“Belle,” he says, dumbstruck.

“That’s me, alright,” she giggles. “Aidan, could you forget that these last two days actually happened?”

“Well, I rather liked you tipsy. So this may be disappointing for me, but if you wish, I will do so.”

“I would be very grateful, yes. I even baked you a super tasty apple pie to thank you for forgetting about my epic failure.”

“What failure?” he asks, innocently. Belle giggles again, and he’d just swoon over this melodic sound if it weren’t for his damn leg, reminding him of its poor condition. Belle obviously hears his sharp intake of a breath, and immediately looks alarmed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Gold tries to sound nonchalant. “My ankle’s a little... sore today.”

“What did you do?”

“I took an awkward step, that’s all.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course,” he moves to let her in, and involuntarily hisses in pain.

“Oh God, a little sore, my arse. Good thing I seem to have promised you a massage. Off to the coach you go!”

Her bossing him around shouldn’t be that hot.

He obeys her without a word, though.

As he sits on the sofa and waits for her to do whatever it is she intends to, he can’t help but notice how nicely she fits there. Into his home, that is. She moves around as if she’s been there before, making him a cup of tea and asking questions about his painkillers. She slices the apple pie she brought, and laughs triumphantly when she finds some ice cream in his fridge. It’ll make the pie even better, she says.

Suddenly Gold cannot imagine his house without Belle.

And it’s quite scary.

When she’s done, she gives him his plate and puts the mug with green tea on the table next to him. She, herself, sits on the coffee table, in front of him, and tells him to put his bad leg on her lap. Gold is reluctant to do so, but when Belle raises an eyebrow at him, he lifts his bad leg and places it where asked without saying anything else.

She then touches him, and he’s in heaven, he thinks. She’s being very delicate and stays focused all the time so as not to hurt him even further, but at the same time applies pressure in all the right places, nearly making him lose his shit.

“Is that good?” she asks at some point.

“Perfect,” Gold groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of his pain slowly but surely subsiding.

“Will you forgive me breaking your vase?”

“Obviously. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. But I’m glad you’re not angry.”

“Accidents happen.”

“To me more often than to others, but I guess you’re right. Now that I know you’re not angry and not in pain anymore... I actually came here for something.”

“Whatever for?” Gold opens his eyes and looks at her, confused. He’s got no idea what she can want from him.

“You did promise to kiss me.”

Oh, that.

“Yes, that,” she laughs. “And need I remind you what you’re famous for? The whole, ‘no one breaks a deal with Mr Gold’ thing?”

“Well. I guess. If I must.” He wipes his forehead theatrically.

“Kiss me, Aidan.”

And he does.


End file.
